


bird set free

by minachandler



Series: kiss me like you wanna be loved [60]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, Moral Ambiguity, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 03:47:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13779006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minachandler/pseuds/minachandler
Summary: Mid-season 6 spec fic. Dinah is back in the Arrow Cave's prison and it's starting to get to her. Fortunately, one of Laurel's more-than-friends comes to break her out.





	bird set free

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Bev for reading this one through. Please note that the tags are there to warn you in advance about the content of this fic, and that this one is definitely not for kiddies.
> 
> Also I've borrowed some lines from DC Comics, but I'm too sleepy to cite them, lol. There's also a line from the play A Streetcar Named Desire (by Tennessee Williams) in this.

“You should try meditation.”

All this time, Dinah’s been sitting on the floor of her prison cell, hugging her knees, rocking back and forth and wishing the white noise in her head would dissipate. But when she hears a woman’s voice, mostly unfamiliar, Dinah jumps to her feet. Through the bars of the Arrow Cave’s makeshift prison, she watches the newcomer emerge from the shadows, stepping into the light.

The woman’s silhouette is tall, and Dinah notices she’s carrying a bow in her hand, moving with the lightest footsteps and agility of a cat. Dinah recognises her after a second as Nyssa al Ghul, one of the Green Arrow’s allies who accompanied him to Lian Yu last year. “Excuse me?”

“My name is -”

“I know who you are,” Dinah interrupts. “Why are you here, Nyssa?”

And somehow that question alone makes the stranger before her falter. Silence falls on them for a few long moments. Then Nyssa says - surprisingly softly - “I wanted to see you.”

“What for?” Dinah demands bluntly, almost before Nyssa finishes her sentence.

But Nyssa ignores her question. “You should try meditation,” Nyssa repeats. Dinah raises her eyebrows, folding her arms. In a way, it grounds her a little, having this distraction of a pretty woman trying to get through to her (in vain, of course). “I only say so because claustrophobia can make one… restless.”

“Wow, you don’t say,” Dinah says sarcastically.

“I know how you feel.”

Dinah huffs a sigh of frustration. “Sure you do. It's not like you have any idea what it's like to -”

“- be carted from one prison cell to another?” Nyssa says. “As it so happens, I do. Including the one you are in presently.”

And with that Nyssa has Dinah’s full attention. “Don't tell me you're also a wanted metahuman used to taking orders from useless men with major daddy issues, all on top of being, uh -” Dinah gives Nyssa a cursory look up and down “- _super_ hot.”

Suddenly, once again, Nyssa is unable to look Dinah in the eye, and for some reason she’s shuffling uncharacteristically awkwardly from one foot to another. Dinah’s not sure if it’s because of something she said or something she’s done. When Nyssa speaks, it’s in an unexpectedly small voice. “Aside from the metahuman part, I am indeed all of the above. I also used to be in a - similar line of work. Meaning we are far more alike than you might think.”

And Dinah finds herself nodding. “So you’ve killed people too. I can respect that in a woman.”

“You shouldn’t, Laurel.”

Now it’s Dinah’s turn to look away quickly, to hide her wince. “I actually go by Dinah.”

“My apologies,” Nyssa says instantly.

“Is _she_ why you're here? Because I’m getting sick of having the same conversation, with people who knew your Laurel and people who didn’t know your Laurel, all about how I can change and be just as angelic and wonderful and _soft_ as she was.”

Nyssa sighs. “That is not why I am here.”

It’s starting to get to Dinah, the mystery of the beautiful stranger she can see through the bars of her prison, the formality of her speech and her fucking cheekbones that are so sharp that Dinah’s sure they could cut glass. She wishes she could put a finger on why, of all people on this godforsaken earth, this one knows exactly what kind of monster Dinah is and yet doesn't look even the slightest bit afraid.

“So why are you here?” Dinah says finally, for the third time now. At first, Nyssa just stands there, arms folded, as though contemplating something. Then Nyssa takes a deep breath, steps forward and enters the code for the prison’s lock. “What are you -?”

“The Dinah Laurel Lance on this earth,” Nyssa says, looking up, “the woman who befriended me when I needed someone the most, was, despite her missteps, the one to ultimately free me from my prison.”

Dinah hasn’t moved an inch, though. She’s met this woman before, sure, but it was in battle, and even then Talia had told Dinah from before that Nyssa was Talia’s alone to fight.

“Why would I want help from someone I don’t know?” Dinah says. “How do I know this isn’t a trap - by Ollie, or by Ricardo Diaz, or someone else?”

“You have always depended on the kindness of strangers, have you not?”

“Yeah, and look where that got me.” But Nyssa is still looking at her like she’s seen a ghost, the way Ollie does, the way Felicity did, and Cisco when she was in the pipeline at Star Labs. And so the words kind of tumble out of her mouth almost before she realises what she’s saying. “Look, do you think you owe me one, because I happen to look like your girlfriend?”

To her credit, Nyssa only seems a little unnerved. “I do not believe I told you that Laurel and I were together.”

Dinah tries to smirk. (It's more a grimace.) “Babe, it’s written all over your face,” Dinah says, and she intends to taunt Nyssa, but inadvertently the words come out softer than she wants. “ _Clearly_ you had a thing with the great Black Canary.”

“We were not together, exactly. And I am not sure I would call it a _thing_. In truth, I am not sure what I would call it. But none of that matters. What does is getting you somewhere more comfortable. Somewhere safe.” Nyssa gestures for Dinah to come forward, holding the door open for her, but still Dinah stands her ground. And Dinah has no idea how, or why, but Nyssa softens when she sees the look on Dinah’s face, and Dinah curses herself because that means Nyssa knows she’s scared. “It is quite all right. I am not what you think I am. You do not have to thank me or even be grateful, and I promise to never demand such a thing from you. I have long since learned the hard way that there are far more important things than that in life.”

“Why would you help me?” Dinah breathes, and miraculously she finds it in her to take a step forward.

“Because you need help,” Nyssa says simply. “And I can give you that. Besides… in here, you are stuck in a rut. And you will forever remain - a cheerless bird in a gilded cage. Truly...”

“...a black canary, huh?” Dinah finishes bitterly. “Well, newsflash, honey. That’s not me. It never has been and it never will be. Not to mention - you know, if we're gonna stick with the whole bird metaphor - I apparently should get used to living in cages.”

“I do not believe that. But if you want to leave this one, you need to trust me.”

And Dinah is still suspicious, but after a moment she takes another step forward. “How do you know I won't kill you the moment we get topside?”

“I don't. But you must know, Dinah, that while I fear many things, death is not one of them.”

“Oh yeah? So what are you scared of? Me?”

“No, not you,” Nyssa says. “What I fear… is seeing someone who looks like the woman I deeply loved being trapped not only in this cell but inside her head,” Nyssa answers, and she’s dropped all pretenses now. “Because every second you are in here is a second I go without you _or_ her.”

The candour with which Nyssa speaks gets under Dinah's skin a lot more than she anticipates. And yet when Dinah meets Nyssa's eyes, silently pleading with Dinah to just let Nyssa save her… it's hard to say no.

She wonders briefly if this earth’s Laurel had the same problem.

(But Dinah figures - she can always kill Nyssa later if this all turns out to be a ruse.)

* * *

 

“She was important to you, wasn't she?” Dinah says when they get into their third car halfway to Coast City. Nyssa insists on switching every hour, and Dinah doesn't complain - Team Arrow almost stopped them from leaving once she and Nyssa had gotten out of the elevator, after all, but with their reduced numbers, Dinah’s superpower and Nyssa bringing a sword to a gunfight, it wasn’t really a fair fight. She figures the team will be searching for them now, though.

“She still is. And she always will be,” Nyssa answers. She meets Dinah's eyes briefly in the car’s mirror and ever so slightly raises her eyebrows. “I notice my eardrums are still intact. As is my pulse.”

“That’s not me showing you mercy, if that's what you're thinking,” Dinah is quick to say. “More… apathy. I still don't care, which is what I know you want. What you _all_ want. For me to replace the person you all lost.” After a second, she adds, “Look, girlfriend or not, you told me yourself that you loved her.”

There's a long pause in which it's clear Nyssa is considering saying something, but it seems she's decided against it as she takes a breath and says, “I did indeed. To be clear… the closest thing I ever had to a girlfriend was Sara Lance, and annoyingly her official title was always as my consort, because the League of Assassins was anachronistic that way.”

Dinah bursts out laughing, and it feels so strange to find something genuinely funny for the first time in a long time that it takes a few seconds to subside. “Wait, you're saying you followed Ollie Queen’s whole, uh, sister-swapping routine?”

Nyssa seems insulted - and rightly so, but she also seems all the more solemn in the face of Dinah’s laughter. “I am nothing like Oliver Queen. I will not pretend that I of all people am above sin, because I certainly am not. But I would never have betrayed Sara the way he did Laurel. And even seven months after her death, Laurel - my Laurel - and I both felt like we were betraying Sara’s memory to give into those feelings for the few days that we did. Even now, a part of me feels guilty, and I will always feel that way.”

At this Dinah is nonplussed and her smile disappears. “Wait, seriously? You get that I was joking, right? I mean, sure, it's messy, but you said it yourself. It's not like you cheated. Seven months is a long enough time, I think. And if Sara was literally dead… you gotta move on from the past sometime, you know?”

Unexpectedly Dinah sees Nyssa smile just before she turns a corner to a gas station. “That's good advice. You might want to follow it yourself.”

* * *

 

Once they're in Coast City they check into a hotel. Nyssa has already prepared aliases for them both. The hotel's three-star and nothing special, but it'll do, even if the only room they have available has just the one double bed. When Nyssa glances over at Dinah in question, Dinah barely skips a beat before putting her arm around Nyssa's waist.

“That’s perfect. We shouldn't dawdle, Amina, _honey_.”

“No, we shouldn't,” Nyssa says slowly in agreement, even as Dinah can feel Nyssa tensing against her touch. She hands over cash to the concierge, tipping him generously. “We will take the room, thank you.”

“I’m taking the bed,” Dinah says the moment they are out of earshot. At this point she doesn’t really expect Nyssa to argue, and true to form, Nyssa doesn’t. She just gently takes hold of Dinah’s hand, moving it from where it’s still resting on Nyssa’s hip, and Dinah takes that as her cue to let go of Nyssa.

“I don’t really sleep much anyway,” Nyssa says.

“Me neither,” Dinah says, even though she had definitely had a couple of hours on the drive over. She steps back and lets Nyssa pass open the door to their room. Dinah hangs back a second, turning the sign on the door to “do not disturb”, before going in herself. Dinah crosses her arms as she sits on the bed. Nyssa is drawing the curtains, inspecting their surroundings, and Dinah watches as she takes a moment to look at the bathroom.

“We are at a decent enough vantage point,” Nyssa says.

“Yeah, and we're two doors away from the fire escape, if we need a quick exit,” Dinah adds. “So, to be clear - your plan is to take me to this - Nanda Parbat.”

“To help you learn to control your ability,” says Nyssa, nodding.

“I'm guessing we have some time to kill until your friend, what was her name, Carol Ferris, gets back to us about that plane,” Dinah says.

“Yes, which means in the meantime you can get some rest.”

It's only when Dinah's taken off her leather jacket, tossing it on the floor, kicked off her boots and gotten into the bed that she realises Nyssa's sitting in the corner on her own, legs crossed, eyes closed. Dinah watches her, and she’s not sure for how long, but finally she breaks the silence.

“Does that really help?” she asks.

“Yes,” Nyssa says without opening her eyes. “You are welcome to join me, if you wish.”

And suddenly it’s impossible for Dinah to take her eyes off Nyssa, perfectly poised but clearly with her guard down. This would be the perfect window, Dinah thinks, to escape, to fly free, far away from anyone else hellbent on saving her because she looks like the Black damn Canary. It’s not like Dinah needs Nyssa, really, to forge her own path, now that they’re far enough from Star City to make it harder to track either of them. And not entirely unexpectedly, Dinah wonders about if she could knock Nyssa out long enough to get away, or if she’d need to actually kill her saviour to make an escape.

“Laurel? I mean - Dinah?” The sound of her name jolts Dinah from her reverie, and she arranges her face into something she hopes is a smile as she moves to lean on her elbow, catching Nyssa’s eye.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join _me_?” Dinah replies, patting the space on the bed beside her. “You’d be more comfortable over here.”

Nyssa looks away, and when Dinah peers closer she sees Nyssa’s eyes are now scrunched shut. “I told you that I do not feel like sleeping.”

“We don't have to sleep.”

Still, Nyssa doesn’t shift an inch and her eyes remain closed. “ _We_? It sounds an awful lot like you are propositioning me.”

“That’s because I am,” Dinah says flatly. “Come on, you’re telling me you’re not even a little tempted? Because, I mean, I think I look _good_.”

Her words are greeted by silence. Then: “I always did tell my Laurel she suited fishnets.”

It’s then that Nyssa finally opens her eyes, gets to her feet and takes a couple of steps forward. Dinah can feel Nyssa’s gaze on her face, travelling to her cleavage and then dragging down to where her jeans are ripped at her thigh and knee and calf, exposing fishnets over bare skin. When Nyssa looks into her eyes once more, Dinah finds herself shivering, and it’s weird how this woman she met mere hours ago is making her feel without laying a finger on her goosebump-covered skin. Dinah sits up in bed, watching her, waiting expectantly.

But all of a sudden Nyssa seems to realise what she’s doing, and she closes her eyes in regret and guilt.

“I’m sorry,” she says under her breath..

“For what?”

“The last time I saw Laurel… my Laurel… I promised her something. I promised that - I would be better. Less selfish. But this - you - I - _that_ would be selfish.”

“You set me free,” Dinah says slowly. “From the Arrow cave, I mean.”

“I always thought ‘the Quiver’ was a more fitting name,” Nyssa says with a small smile.

Dinah considers. “That is actually better. But don't change the subject. I’d hardly call our little prison break selfish. Not on your part.”

“I already said that I do not expect a thank you.”

And she’s not sure exactly why, but Dinah gets out of the bed, now, getting to her feet and taking a step towards Nyssa. Dinah reaches out to touch Nyssa’s cheek, and Nyssa closes her eyes, letting out a sigh, and her breath kisses Dinah’s neck. “I know. I’m not thanking you.”

Nyssa’s eyes open in surprise. “You’re not?”

Dinah shrugs. “It’s not exactly in my nature. But if there's one thing I know for sure -”

“Yes?” says Nyssa hopefully.

“- it's that the last time I had sex with a woman was over five years ago - in a parallel universe, no less. A girl’s got needs, you know.”

And that is clearly not what Nyssa expects to hear, and the corners of her mouth crease into the beginnings of a smile and she’s clearly holding back a laugh. “I did not realise this is how seductions went on earth-2.”

Dinah shrugs. “Yeah, well, I’m not the type to be all poetic. But, uh, as far as compliments go, I already told you you’re super hot. So is that enough foreplay for you, Nyssa al Ghul, or am I gonna have to satisfy myself?” Dinah straightens up to her full height, looking Nyssa in the eyes. She doesn’t anticipate drowning in that rich brown stare, or her resultant shiver when Nyssa finally seems to give in and touches Dinah’s wrist, her hand moving down until their fingers are twined together.

“I happen to like foreplay,” Nyssa says quietly, and Dinah takes that as her cue to kiss her at last.

“Does that mean you're gonna touch me?” Dinah murmurs against Nyssa's lips, and she can't believe she can feel butterflies in her stomach when she feels Nyssa's mouth upturn into a genuine smile. The very idea seems preposterous - but here they are, in this hotel room, a couple of yards away from the bed tangling their fingers together.

“With your permission, of course.” Dinah raises her eyebrows in question. “Call me quaint, but I would like for you to be sure.”

“That's kind of -”

“- old-fashioned, perhaps?” Nyssa suggests, but Dinah shakes her head.

“I was gonna go with ‘considerate’, actually.”

“A word seldom if not ever associated with me.”

But Dinah ignores this - because she knows it’s not true. “And yes - in answer to your question… trust me, I'm sure.”

And Dinah's not sure when - maybe when Nyssa's arms wind around Dinah's waist, or when she lifts Dinah off her feet with her kiss, or perhaps when Nyssa gazes reverently into her eyes as she makes quick work of the buttons on Dinah's black and white flannel shirt - but she does decide against escaping for the time being.

“I do,” Nyssa whispers into Dinah's ear as she steers her to the bed and makes her sit down. “Trust you, that is.”

Dinah reaches behind her, unclasps her bra and lets it fall off, moving so her thighs are apart, and Nyssa steps between them, sinking to her knees. And even though Dinah's given her carte blanche, Nyssa still hesitates, so Dinah leans down and kisses Nyssa, catching her hand and placing it firmly on her breast.

“Back atcha,” she replies, and they share a rare smile before Nyssa raises her head, enclosing Dinah's right nipple with her mouth. It's erect already but when Dinah feels the swipe of Nyssa's tongue she can feel it stiffening, and all the while Nyssa is playing with her left nipple with her finger and thumb. Dinah gasps, arching into her, heart pumping, heat rushing through her blood so she can feel that tingling sensation achingly in her groin. Appropriately that's the moment Nyssa chooses to release her breast and tug down her remaining garments, untangling pants and underwear and fishnets from her ankles so Dinah is completely naked.

Nyssa presses her face into Dinah's thigh. She bites lightly into hot flesh and then just as suddenly moves her mouth away, making Dinah growl in protest.

But then her growl turns into a groan, as Nyssa buries her tongue inside her. Dinah's biting her lip, aware that she could very well shatter the windows if she doesn't control herself, but it's so fucking hard when Nyssa's doing what she's doing with her mouth. Dinah lies back on the bed, trying not to thrust her hips too much against Nyssa's chin.

And it's torture - the pleasurable kind, yes, but still torture just the same, even though Nyssa's the one kneeling, and yet Dinah is the one to completely and utterly surrender to her every touch. Dinah reaches out, trying to find something to hold on to. She grabs a fistful of Nyssa's hair, giving as good as she can get, but then she feels the rough scrape of Nyssa's teeth on her clit and it's like this goddamn woman has set her on fire, and all her efforts to put it out only accelerate the flames.

Two of Nyssa's fingers replace her tongue, just when Dinah's edging on the cusp of her climax, and she's moaning now, not realising how loud she's getting. A cracking sound tells her the mirror on the dresser beside them has broken in half, but Dinah barely notices. Nyssa doesn't either, but she does look up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Sit up,” Nyssa orders. Dinah doesn't even think when she obeys almost automatically - except to vaguely register that it’s turning her on even more. When she meets Nyssa's eyes she can see the distance, the grief, the desire, confusion and trust and love, none of it making sense and yet all of it so warm that Dinah has no choice but to drown in the searing heat of her stare. “Dinah…”

“Yeah?” she manages to say, but even that one word comes out so ragged that she wonders if Nyssa hears her.

Nyssa slides her fingers inside her again, and Dinah instinctively closes her eyes, but then she feels Nyssa's free hand on her chin.

“No. I want you to look at me.”

And Dinah laughs - she actually _laughs_ \- as she says breathlessly, “You are probably the only person on this earth whose orders I actually enjoy - _holy fuck,_ Nyssa -”

“Shhh,” Nyssa says softly, cradling Dinah's head with her free hand as she inches her fingers inside her, and Dinah lets out a cry as quiet as she can manage when she feels her walls clench down on Nyssa's fingers.

“Nyssa…” Her name sounds so holy on her tongue, making it hard to believe she ever managed to say it with indifference mere hours before. She whispers _“please”_ just before Nyssa relents, tips Dinah right over the edge with her touch, and Dinah feels so lightheaded that she barely realises she’s fallen back on the bed with a gasp. And it’s as Dinah’s tumbling back to earth, unsteadily, her breaths coming out slower, now, thankfully, that she feels Nyssa’s warm weight on top of her and the rub of fabric against her bare skin.

Tugging at the hem of Nyssa’s shirt, Dinah pulls it up and over Nyssa’s head, and Nyssa leans down to kiss her again. Dinah can taste herself on Nyssa, even when Dinah kisses her gently, and Dinah moves her palms down Nyssa’s back and right onto her ass. It feels good, but Dinah needs more - she’s hungry for more, and she manages to slip a hand into the front of Nyssa’s jeans, not really noticing Nyssa reaching behind her to take off her bra until it falls between them. And _fuck_ , Nyssa’s so wet for her, her eyes alight with lust and hooded with desire, forehead damp with sweat, as she looks down at her, drinking her in, the sight of Dinah beneath her trying to yank down her jeans to make Nyssa every bit as naked as she is.

After a second Dinah succeeds in pulling her pants down. Nyssa kicks them onto the floor with her feet, and as she does so Dinah pushes roughly at Nyssa’s shoulders so Dinah’s on top of Nyssa, now. Dinah wastes no time, her hand going straight to Nyssa’s thigh, and when she feels Nyssa’s slick arousal coat her fingers she has to suppress a moan of her own in time with Nyssa’s, because damn if that doesn’t totally do it for her too. Nyssa’s pretty sensitive, from what Dinah can gather - the pad of her finger grazes Nyssa’s entrance and Nyssa shudders instantly.

Dinah’s clumsier than Nyssa - she alternates between kissing Nyssa and caressing her between her legs, searching for her sensitive spots. She’s still finding her bearings with Nyssa, but she blames it on lack of practice, and when she says this aloud, the hum of Nyssa’s laugh in the back of her throat when their lips meet feels so pleasantly warm that Dinah’s the one who ends up gasping when they come up for air. She’s too breathless to ask what Nyssa is saying in a stream of Arabic, beautiful foreign words that sound like a prayer, but Dinah’s hand is steady on the underside of Nyssa’s thigh and she squeezes, marvelling at how supple Nyssa’s muscles are beneath her palm.

In the end it doesn’t take much more for Nyssa to come, even if her orgasm is a lot quieter than Dinah’s. Dinah wants to ask why, but as they both move to be more comfortable on the bed, under the comforter, Nyssa turns on her side and gazes at Dinah with shining eyes and laboured breaths. And ordinarily that look of pure adoration would make her heart skip a beat. Before she got her sonic scream in the Central City of her earth, before she became a metahuman, before she saw how ugly the world could be, Dinah Laurel Lance would be _happy_ that a woman so beautiful was looking at her like that. If Dinah didn’t know any better, she would think that she was Nyssa’s whole world, and she might even believe that when Nyssa gazes into Dinah’s eyes she sees right through to her soul.

But what Nyssa sees isn’t who Dinah is. Dinah isn’t Nyssa’s Laurel, and she never has been. And Dinah doesn’t have a soul for Nyssa to see.

And it’s then as the ecstasy clears and the exhilaration from her racing heart fades away that Dinah sees more clearly. She sees she hasn’t been freed - not really. And it occurs to her as she lies back, all bare breasts and off-white sheets, that prison or not she will always remain a cheerless bird in a gilded cage - not a canary, not the pretty bird who could do no wrong, but something uglier, a bird that shrieks, attacks with its claws, rages for freedom she will never get.

And nothing Nyssa al Ghul can do will change that.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! So this fic kind of drained a lot out of me, lol, meaning I would absolutely love to know what you think. Please leave a comment in that little box below because it would absolutely make my day. Thanks so much for reading, and if you want to read the sequel, it's already up and it's called [intimacy](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13734657) (nsfw). 
> 
> Also I am not done with this verse so there will be an additional followup at some point soon :)


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